Tuesday, 21 April 2015

What Home Means To Me

When I first moved from my family home at age 25, to live 250 miles away - I felt pretty down.

It felt strange to be leaving behind the house I'd grown up in - I remember sitting in the living room the night before the big move and reminiscing about how many nights I'd spent sat in that same position watching TV, and how the next time I found myself in that familiar spot things would be so different - I would be merely visiting.

It all felt so strange - I remember worrying that I wouldn't be a member of that household anymore - as though my physical presence in that particular house somehow signified whether or not I was a true member of my family.

Now, 6 years on, I still miss that house every now and then - it's familiarity is a thing of comfort of course.

But I've come to realise that the place you call "home" is something that changes as you grow older - you come to realise that home isn't a physical place, it's not a destination you can go to - it's a feeling.

Home for me is about the people who are there - as cheesy as it may sound, "Home" for me is wherever the people I love are.

What good would it be for me to find myself in that familiar old house all alone? If my family weren't there, would it still feel like home? I doubt it.

The house itself is just a shell - a shell filled with memories and nostalgia yes - but a shell nonetheless.

I could be a thousand miles away, in a place I've never before seen - but if my family are with me, I'm where I should be. I'm home - or as close to it as I can ever really be.

And that was the inspiration behind this image I've made to take part in Principality's blogger competition - I wanted to create an image I could hang in my house, something that could come with me at whatever house I find myself living in in the future, to remind me that a house is just bricks & mortar and that home is a feeling I carry with me in my heart, whenever I'm with the people who are "home" to me.